To Catch A Swan
by Phoenix-Talon
Summary: A reimagining of season 1, where Henry finds Neal first instead of Emma. Swanfire.
1. New York

"Neal! Are you coming out with us tonight?"

Neal Cassidy glanced up from his desk towards Roger Stegman, who was leaning against his doorframe eagerly. Roger was a good sort of coworker, the kind that was willing to help you fix your mistakes, chat with you in the break room, and tell you if birthday cake was being served on one of the floors. It was around 3:47 PM on a Friday afternoon, and the employees of Heidelberg Associates were getting antsy.

"Nah," Neal stretched a little. "Think I'm just gonna go home. Maybe next time."

"C'mon, Neal," Roger complained. "You're a freakin' workaholic. Tax season's over, cut loose a little!"

Neal shrugged. "Gotta pay the bills," He grinned. He turned back towards his Excel sheet, but apparently that was not enough of a dismissal.

"We're going to Paige's," Roger pressed. "Best bar in town. Lots of pretty girls! You know, Naomi in marketing has been talking about you a lot. She'll probably be there if she knows you're going."

Neal twisted his lips. "Maybe next time."

"All right then," Roger said good-naturedly. "You shouldn't drink alone, you know!" He exited Neal's office in something of a huff and Neal smiled.

Perhaps he should break down and join them. It's not like he was a loner by any means—he joined his coworkers for after work drinks all the time. Most of the bars around here knew him on sight. Neal sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, considering. Every time he tried to gain motivation to go, something sunk in his gut.

By the time 5:00PM rolled around, Neal had come to a decision. Not this weekend. He was going to pick up some Chinese takeout, a six pack, and call it a night. There ought to be something mindlessly distracting on TV.

It was one of those perfect October days that made Neal glad he didn't drive much, as he turned on his iPod and pressed _shuffle_. It had been a brisk walk this morning, but the cool wind felt good as he stepped out of Heidelberg, heading towards the Subway.

He waved idly towards his friends that were headed towards Paige's but continued on his route, stopping at a newsstand for a cup of coffee. He glanced at a magazine and jolted a little at the date—October 22nd.

Neal exhaled. Today was Emma's birthday.

His stomach lurched. She had turned 28…where was she? What was she doing right now? Was she all right? Happy? In love with someone who deserved her?

Neal cleared his throat, trying to stave off the guilt and waves of sadness. He hadn't heard from August in several years—no updates on if Emma was all right, if she needed any more money, if she was safe.

His iPod began to play "Born to Run", by Bruce Springsteen—it was a little too apt. He pressed skip and "Charley's Girl" came on. Satisfied, he continued to head back to his apartment, trying not to think of Emma.

There would probably never be a moment where he didn't love her, Neal thought to himself as he unlocked the door to his apartment. He tossed his black messenger bag on the couch and went to the fridge, pulling out a beer. He winced, remembering he'd forgotten to pick up a six-pack—he was down to one drink left. Sighing, he picked up his cell phone and ordered garlic chicken and egg drop soup, flicking on the television.

Disney's _Peter Pan_ was on. Rolling his eyes, he changed the channel quickly and found a suitably boring documentary on ancient Arab trade routes. Twenty minutes in, his Chinese arrived, and he ate quietly.

Dull, Neal thought to himself. But familiar. Normal. Maybe someday he would find someone, a nice girl that would make him forget about Emma—someone who had no connection to his past, to the world he ran from. No destiny, no magic, no pirates, no curses…just blissful monotony.

His eyes began to flicker and Neal fell asleep.

XXXX

There was a knock at the door.

Neal grunted in his sleep. The knock became more persistent and Neal forced himself up, slouching to the door.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," He muttered, opening it wide. He blinked at a young boy who grinned up at him eagerly.

"Hey—you need something?" Neal asked, a little perplexed. As far as he knew, there were no kids in his apartment complex.

"Are you Neal Cassidy?" The kid asked.

"Yeah," Neal rubbed his eyes.

"My name's Henry," The kid said cheerfully. "I'm your son!"

Neal stared at him. "_What_?!"

Henry paid no heed, sidling past him and entering the apartment. Neal watched him, his mind swimming frantically.

"Look—I think you made a mistake, kid," Neal tried to say. "I don't have a son."

"Ten years ago, were you ever with a woman named Emma Swan?" Henry demanded, folding his arms over his chest.

Neal's heart stopped.

"That's my mom," Henry explained. "She's hard to find though, she moves around a lot. But you've been in one place for a while and it was a cheaper deal to get to New York than Boston."

"But—Emma and me—we never had a kid!" Neal spluttered.

"Would you know if you did?" Henry queried skeptically and Neal ran his fingers through his hair. It was impossible—he _couldn't_—Emma would've told him if she were pregnant, wouldn't she? She'd never keep this from him, she'd never…

He stood, rooted to the spot. He'd left her. He'd abandoned her while she was _pregnant_. Immediately, rage coursed through his veins—August. Did August know about this? Was this all part of some screwed up plan?!

"Yum," Henry had helped himself to a spare crab rangoon. "Do you have any juice?"

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," Neal attempted to halt the situation as Henry strode to his fridge, taking out a large jug of apple juice. "You're—you're Emma's kid? Does she know you're here?!"

Henry shook his head. "She gave me up for adoption," He said calmly. There was a shadow in Henry's gaze that Neal felt familiar with. This kid was lonely. He felt abandoned by those he loved. Isolated.

"Okay, where are your adoptive parents?" Neal wanted to know. "Do _they_know you're here?"

Henry raised and lowered one shoulder. "I need your help finding Emma," He announced. "And then I need you both to come with me to Storybrooke."

"What's the matter?" Neal wanted to know. "You okay?"

"_I_ am," Henry said slyly. "But we need Emma. We need Emma to break the curse!"

"Break the…" Neal stilled. Rivulets of ice crept into his veins as he thought of who created the curses. His voice grew serious. "What are you talking about?"

Henry lit up. "You believe me!"

"I didn't say that," Neal said quickly. "But—what are you talking about."

Henry shrugged off his backpack, busily unzipping it and pulling out a storybook. He flipped through the pages and Neal caught several familiar faces—Snow White, Prince Charming, Red Riding Hood—there was one that almost liked like him as a young boy…

"Every story in this book is true," Henry said solemnly. "It actually happened." He handed the book to Neal, who gently flipped a page. He hadn't imagined it—an illustration of young Baelfire, a look of terror on his face…

"Emma's in this book," Henry explained and Neal wondered if this kid knew that he was in it too. "See?" There was an illustration of an infant, swaddled in a blanket.

Neal looked closely. "I recognize that blanket—that belonged to Emma. It was her baby blanket."

Henry looked excited. "See!" He crowed. "It _is_ true!"

Neal shook his head in agitation. "Hang on. You're telling me—the people in this book," He avoided saying 'the Enchanted Forest'. "Are here? In this world?"

"In Storybrooke," Henry affirmed. "Time is frozen there, though. The Evil Queen cursed the Enchanted Forest and now everybody who lived there is in Storybrooke. Stuck in that town, forever."

Neal swallowed. A curse…curses were his father's realm of expertise. If Henry was telling the truth, it was possible…it was possible Rumplestiltskin was in Storybrooke. Unless he'd taken precautions to avoid such a curse—he was the king of loopholes…

Henry was watching him anxiously. "Nobody knows who they are," He said urgently. "They've forgotten! No one grows older, no one changes, everything stays exactly the same. I'm the only one who even goes up a grade. And—"

"Your adoptive parents," Neal broke in. "They're there?"

Henry coughed. "Yeah. My mom. She's the Evil Queen."

There was a slight pause as Neal processed this. It had been hundreds of years since he'd been in the Enchanted Forest—most of the names in Henry's storybook were unfamiliar to him. He recognized the Blue Fairy, his father,_himself_…but the Evil Queen?

"She doesn't love me," Henry stared at his feet. "She only pretends to. She's_evil_."

Neal felt a painful stab of kinship.

"Has she hurt you?" He asked gruffly.

"She tries to make me think I'm crazy," Henry sighed. "The whole town is under her control. No one can leave. Everyone's happy endings are taken away. And the only way to save everyone is to find Snow White and Prince Charming's daughter—Emma—to break the curse, and set everyone free!"

Neal coughed. "You're saying _Emma_ is the daughter of Snow White?"

Henry nodded. Neal felt slightly sick. He fingered the storybook, considering. What would this mean? Suppose they did find her, suppose they did go back to Storybrooke. What then? Would he have to face his father? Didn't August say that being with Emma got in the way of her destiny?

But could he leave Henry at the hands of some evil witch?

Neal sighed, rubbing his temples. Henry watched him carefully.

"You're taking this better than I expected," Henry said suspiciously. "You believe me?"

"I wish I didn't," Neal said quietly. "But I don't think you're lying." His lips twisted as he turned a page, showing Rumplestiltskin cackling towards Snow White.

Henry cocked his head. "Why?"

"Because I'm in here too."

XXXX

It was hard to figure out how much Henry should know. In the space of a few seconds, Neal's life had completely changed, everything he had run from and left behind had burst through his door, on the heels of a precocious ten-year-old. There could be no more running, no more hiding from his past. But that didn't mean Henry had to suffer as he had suffered.

"I wish you'd just tell me already," Henry complained as they sped down the highway, en route to Boston. "I'm gonna find out anyway. I'm resourceful."

"I don't doubt it," Neal said grimly. He had no idea how a ten-year-old managed to travel all the way from Maine to New York under the nose of an apparent wicked queen.

"Let's just say it might be dangerous for you to know who I am," Neal explained, fingers tightening on the wheel. "Just call me Neal for now."

Henry was quiet for a moment. "Can't I…can't I call you, Dad?" He requested hesitantly and Neal's heart lurched. "I mean, I do have a Mom, and I don't want to freak out Emma any more than we're already going to. But I've never had a dad. It's been just me and Mom for as long as I can remember."

Something unfamiliar warmed in Neal's chest. "If you want to," Neal said quietly.

"Great!" Henry grinned. "I can't wait to see Emma, though. I wonder if she's like how I imagined her…"

Neal coughed. "Yeah, that is something we're gonna have to talk about," He said, tapping his fingers on the wheel impatiently. "We're gonna have to pull a little con. You with me?"

"A con?" Henry blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Emma is not gonna be happy to see me," Neal said frankly. "And probably won't be happy to see you either. If we both tell her we have to bring her to an enchanted town to save everyone, she won't come. _Especially_ because I'm with you."

"Hm," Henry said thoughtfully. "The hero never believes in the beginning. Well, you did, but—"

"I'm no hero," Neal sighed, thinking of how he abandoned Emma. "We'll have to play this carefully."

Henry cocked his head curiously. "Why won't she be glad to see you?" He asked. "Bad breakup?"

"Something like that," Neal sighed again. "We'll be lucky if she doesn't slam a door in our face."

"I'll make her listen," Henry said confidently. "I'll say that if she doesn't come with us, I'll tell the police you and her kidnapped me."

Neal blanched at the terribly believable lie. This really was his kid.

"All right, well in that case, we're gonna act like you blackmailed me into seeing her," Neal said decidedly. "That you wanted both of us to come to Storybrooke and this was the only way. So when we get there, I'm gonna act like I don't believe you about the town. Otherwise, Emma's just gonna think I've gone crazy."

Henry nodded slowly. "I gotcha," He said, stretching a little. "That's smart. You're good at cons!"

Neal laughed. "Honestly, kid, I never thought I'd be running one again," He ran his fingers through his hair in agitation. "Once you go square, you don't wanna go back…"

"Right," Henry took a sip of a large gulp soda that Neal had bought at the first gas station they'd filled up at. "How long till Boston?"

"A while," Neal's heart fluttered and he stepped on the gas.

XXXX

It was around 9PM when they finally arrived on the doorstep of a sleek, modern apartment complex. Neal heaved a deep breath, trying to calm his jitters.

He was going to see Emma again. After all this time…did she hate him?

"C'mon!" Henry said cheerfully, grabbing his hand. Henry had had a luxurious nap in the car and was now thoroughly energized as he fairly dragged Neal into a glass elevator. He pressed the button on the top floor, cheerfully humming something that sounded like a Disney song while Neal tapped his foot anxiously.

"You sure are nervous," Henry remarked, noting Neal's agitation.

"I told you," Neal sucked in his breath. "We didn't exactly part well."

Henry twisted his mouth a little. "Why did you break up?"

"It's a long story," Neal muttered. "Listen. When we get to her door, you're gonna have to be the one to knock and introduce yourself. I'll wait a little to the side. If she sees me straight off, she's liable to slam the door and refuse to even hear you out. Once she knows who you are…then grab me."

"No problem," Henry said confidently. The elevator doors opened and they stepped out. Henry found the apartment immediately—apartment 815.

"You're on, kid," Neal gingerly touched his shoulder and Henry grinned. Neal stepped out of sight, watching Henry knock on the door.

After a few moments, the door opened—and there she was.

She hadn't changed. Older certainly, but the same guarded features, the same beautiful blonde hair, the same stormy blue eyes. She stared at Henry in some confusion and asked what he wanted. After confirming her identity, Henry brightly introduced himself—just as he'd done at Neal's apartment, hours before.

The shock and fear on Emma's face was evident. Henry queried if she'd given up a child for adoption ten years ago—from the look on Emma's face, her answer was clear.

"We need to get going," Henry told her firmly. "All of us. Right, Dad?" He called over his shoulder.

If Neal had seen terror on Emma's face from confronting the child she gave up for adoption, it was nothing compared to the horror in her eyes as he stepped into view. She fell backwards against her door, completely at a loss.

"Hey, Emma," Neal said quietly. "Looks like we got some catching up to do."


	2. Storybrooke's Welcome Wagon

"Don't slam the door in our face," Henry requested.

Neal briefly considered wishing Emma a happy birthday, but when the shock and horror on her face melted into hard anger, he thought better of it.

"What—how—" Emma sputtered. "_What are you doing here_?"

"He found me," Neal replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Said he was my kid. Didn't believe him at first—never thought you would keep something like that from me." He hadn't meant for his tone to sound accusatory, but the bitterness still slunk in.

Emma's eyes widened in anger. "You have absolutely no right to—" She halted briefly, noticing Henry had shrunk back from her tone. Neal watched her swallow her rage and force a reasonable tone.

"You don't have to be mad," Henry said mildly. "It's not Neal's fault we came here. I made him. I took a bus all the way from Maine to come." He promptly pushed past Emma into her apartment.

"Henry," Neal called after him, starting to follow. For a second, Emma blocked him, glaring daggers at him, letting him know through one expression that he was not nor ever would be welcome in her home. But she stepped aside, deciding that pursuing Henry was more important.

"You should get your stuff," Henry announced, flopping on a very uncomfortable looking couch. "We need to get going."

Emma took a deep breath. "Give me a minute," She disappeared into the hallway and Neal let out the breath he'd been holding.

"She sure hates you," Henry observed.

"Yeah, I noticed," Neal glanced around his surroundings. There didn't seem to be much in her apartment—no photos, no art, no signs that she was in any way attached to this place. The furnishings seemed unlike her too, cold and heartless, as if they'd been picked out by a commercial designer.

Emma reappeared, staring them both down. She cleared her throat. "Okay. Kid, I'm calling the cops to take you home."

"Then I'll tell them you two kidnapped me," Henry said firmly and Neal winced. Emma saw the movement and her lips pursed.

"Got you with that line, did he?" Emma said bitingly. "Figures you wouldn't come here unless you were blackmailed into it."

"How would you know," Neal snapped. "Since you never told me I had a kid?"

"Stop fighting or I'll tell the police you hit me too," Henry said grandly and both Emma and Neal silenced.

She looked hard at the resolved ten-year-old before her and something of a half-smile appeared on her face. "You're pretty good. But here's the thing—there's not a lot I'm great at in life. I have one skill. Let's call it a superpower. I can tell when anyone is lying and you, kid, are." She went to the phone receiver and Henry threw Neal a panicked expression.

"You really wanna chance that?" Neal folded his arms. "How's this gonna look to the cops? Estranged birth mother and father, who previously lived states apart, suddenly reunite with a kid in tow?"

Emma ignored him entirely, beginning to dial.

"Please don't call the cops!" Henry burst out. "Please…please come home with me. I need you both!"

Emma hesitated. She threw another hateful look towards Neal and set down the receiver, turning towards Henry.

"Where's home?" She wanted to know.

"Storybrooke, Maine."

Emma snorted. "Storybrooke? Seriously?"

Henry nodded. "And you _both_ have to come with me," He pleaded.

She exhaled noisily and Neal shrugged towards her. It was hard to get a read on Emma—obviously he knew she was seething towards his presence but somewhere in between the chaos, she'd closed off all emotions towards him, refusing to acknowledge everything that was unresolved and unsaid. Frankly, he'd rather she scream at him then endure this ice.

"All right," Emma said decidedly. "We'll take you back to Storybrooke. We'll take two cars," She jerked her finger towards Neal. "I'm not riding with you. Then the kid goes back to his house quietly. Got it?"

"Got it," Henry affirmed. "I'll ride with you, Emma!"

"Fine," Emma brushed past Neal to grab her keys. "Though don't be surprised if Neal ditches us halfway. He's good at that."

At that precise moment, Neal's head began to pound. This was going to be a long night.

XXXX

At around midnight, Neal's tan Civic crossed into Storybrooke, Maine, on the heels of a yellow bug.

_The_ yellow bug.

The moment he crossed into Storybrooke, something crept up the back of Neal's spine. There was something strange about this town. He could feel it in his bones—it was like walking around on cold medicine. Everything simply felt fuzzy. Unreal. In stasis. The town itself appeared charming, wholesome even, with a sort of center square, cute kitschy shops, the sort of place that thrived on bed and breakfasts for old married couples.

Things weren't always what they appeared. No one knew that better than Neal himself.

He parked behind Emma's yellow bug, watching her and Henry exit the car. He exhaled slowly, trying to shake the impending sense of doom that shadowed him.

His father could be in this town.

Neal exited his car and joined Emma, who was currently demanding Henry provide his address.

"Forty-four Not Telling You Street," Henry replied and Neal leaned against the yellow bug, throwing Emma a significant expression. She'd actually kept the bug.

Emma ignored the glance. "Look, it's been a long night and it's almost—" She looked upwards towards the clock tower. "8:15?"

"That clock hasn't moved my whole life," Henry told them. "Time's frozen here."

"Excuse me?" Emma crossed her arms.

Henry looked towards Neal. "I explained to her about the book," He said importantly. "The Evil Queen stopped time here. She sent everyone from the Enchanted Forest here."

Neal shivered—that would include Rumplestiltskin.

"Okay, the Evil Queen sent a bunch of fairytale characters here," Emma said skeptically.

"Yeah, and now they're trapped," Henry explained.

"Frozen in time, stuck in Storybrooke, Maine. That's what you're going with?" Emma asked dryly.

"It's true!" Henry protested.

"Then why doesn't everybody just leave?" Emma asked in exasperation.

"They can't," Henry said seriously. "If they try, bad things happen!"

"You left," Neal pointed out and then considered. Henry wasn't born in the Enchanted Forest, nor was he conceived there. Maybe that made a difference. But did that mean now that Neal was in Storybrooke…that he couldn't leave? His stomach lurched.

Henry opened his mouth to respond but someone interrupted. "Henry!"

The three turned to see a bespectacled man trot up towards them, walking a Dalmatian. He had curly red hair and approached them all a little warily.

"Henry, what are you doing here? Is everything all right?" He asked, his eyes flicking between Neal and Emma.

"I'm fine, Archie," Henry said nervously.

"Who's this?" Archie asked, gesturing towards Neal and Emma.

"Just two people giving him a lift home," Emma broke in before Neal could answer.

"They're my parents, Archie!" Henry said eagerly.

Archie's eyes widened. "Oh, I see," He said softly, taking both Neal and Emma in.

"You know where he lives?" Emma asked pointblank and Henry flinched.

"Yeah, sure," Archie responded, a little taken aback at this turn of events. "Just, uh, right up on Mifflin street. The Mayor's house is the biggest one on the block."

Emma whirled towards Henry. "You're the _mayor_'_s_ kid?!"

Henry scuffed his foot. "Uh, maybe…"

Neal reflected—that made a lot of sense. If the Evil Queen had cast the curse, she'd give herself the best life possible, a life with the most control. As mayor, she'd rule everyone's lives.

"Hey, where were you today, Henry?" Archie asked suddenly. "Because you missed your session."

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, I went on a field trip," Henry answered quickly and Archie sighed in response.

"Henry, what did I tell you about lying?" He asked reprovingly. "Giving into one's dark side never accomplishes anything."

_Tell that to Rumplestiltskin_, Neal thought to himself dryly but suddenly stilled. Henry hadn't been lying—the Evil Queen was trying to make him think that he was crazy. That's why Henry saw a shrink. He sucked in his breath. He was suddenly looking forward to meeting this queen—sounds like they had a few things to settle.

XXXX

They arrived in front of a large white house, obviously the fanciest and most elaborate home in the entire town. Neal hadn't spoken much since they'd arrive, but he was jumpy—perhaps afraid that his father was going to spring out of nowhere.

But did this mean Rumplestiltskin was under the curse as well? Had Rumplestiltskin forgotten who _he_ was? Did this mean…instead of the Dark One, if Neal were to run into him…would he be the same man Neal had loved? A poor spinner, afraid of his own shadow, but kind at heart? Or perhaps a tailor in this world…Neal shook the scattered thoughts aside briskly. There was no time for this.

Henry halted. "Please don't take me back there," He begged, suddenly appealing to Neal. Neal swallowed hard. He looked at Emma worriedly and a brief shadow fell over her countenance, before she hardened.

"I have to. I'm sure your parents are worried sick about you," Emma replied, doggedly heading towards the house.

"I don't have parents!" Henry burst out. "Just a mom and she's evil!"

"Evil? That's a bit extreme, isn't it?" Emma asked wryly.

"She is! I told you!" Henry reached for Neal's hand. "She doesn't love me. She only pretends to. Please, Dad! I don't want to go back!"

Neal looked gravely at Emma, who bit her lip. It was clear she was thinking the same thing as him, worrying about Henry's safety. Worse still, if she were an Evil Queen from the Enchanted Forest…had she hurt Henry? Had she been cruel to him? Suddenly, Neal wanted to throw the entire con away, confess all, and take Henry away from here, far from the dangers and evils of his world.

"Kid…I'm sure that's not true…" Emma said weakly.

"Emma," Neal said quietly. "Maybe we should—"

_"Henry_!"

The door to the house opened and a woman rushed out. She was beautiful, in all honesty, with dark hair and expressive eyes, wearing a classy dress. She flung her arms around Henry, nearly sobbing with relief. Neal watched her carefully, his eyes flicking towards a cop who ambled up to them.

"Henry!" She gasped. "Are you okay? Where have you _been_? What happened?"

"I found my _real_ parents!" Henry snapped, shoving away from her. He darted inside the house, leaving her alone with Neal and Emma.

She gaped at them, fear flooding her face. Neal scratched his nose, suddenly feeling awkward. He'd expected something of an evil witch, but at the moment…she seemed an ordinary, concerned parent…

_Looks can be deceiving._

"You're—you're Henry's birth parents?" Her voice shook as she stared at them both.

"Yeah, but we're not together," Emma said hastily. "He just—found us both."

"Neal Cassidy," Neal introduced, extending a hand. She did not take it but her eyes narrowed towards both of them. Calculating.

"I'll just—go check on the lad. Make sure he's all right," The cop edged away from the awkward encounter, retreating into the house.

There was a long pause before a smile broke out on the woman's face.

"My name is Regina Mills," She said graciously. "How would you two like a glass of the best apple cider you've ever tasted?"

"Got anything stronger?" Neal and Emma asked in unison.

XXXX

Regina's house was immaculate. _Too_ immaculate. It looked like something out of a magazine for furniture. There were no crumbs on her counters, no scattered toys, no roller blades to trip over. Everything was perfectly precise, more like a photo shoot than a home.

Neal didn't like it.

She led them into her parlor and poured them both a glass of cider. Emma took a large sip but Neal only held his. He knew better than to down a drink from _his_ land.

"How did he find me?" Emma wondered aloud, taking in her surroundings.

"No idea," Regina said smoothly. "When I adopted him, he was only three weeks old. Records were sealed. I was told the birth mother didn't want to have any contact." There was the barest hint of judgment in Regina's tone that made Emma's expression flicker.

"You were told right," She said flatly.

"And you?" Regina turned towards Neal.

"I've known about Henry's existence for approximately eight hours," Neal replied, a little coolly. "And honestly—I would have wanted contact."

Regina stiffened. "Unfortunately, that is neither here nor there," She said coldly and Neal bristled. Emma shot him a warning look but he ignored it.

"Oh, yeah?" Neal said challengingly but before Regina could retort, the sheriff interrupted, coming downstairs.

"Madam Mayor, you can relax," He announced. "Other than being a tired little boy, Henry's fine."

"Thank you, Sheriff," Regina's gaze never left Neal's. The cop exited and she took a deep breath.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Cassidy," She said matter-of-factly. "I'm afraid you'll find that under Maine law, you are not recognized as a legal guardian and you have no obligation or responsibility towards Henry. I do _appreciate_ your concern, but as it stands, you're free to go back to wherever you came from."

Neal rose, fists clenching. "Yeah? We'll see about that," He snarled. He turned from the room, leaving Emma and Regina alone.

He stormed out of the obscenely perfect house, trying to control his temper. To his surprise, the sheriff was waiting outside, leaning against his car.

"Is there a problem?" Neal asked warily.

The cop shook his head. "Not at all. I do know that Regina's drinks can be a little poisonous, though. I wouldn't recommend driving." His accent was foreign—in this world, it would've been Irish. Neal wondered who the sheriff _actually_ was.

"Nah—I'm not leaving," Neal ran his fingers through his hair. "At least not yet. You know of a hotel I can stay at?"

"Try Granny's," The cop advised. "Just down the road."

"Great," Neal muttered, starting on his way. He paused for a second, turning back towards the sheriff.

"Hey, uh…" He tried to remember if the cop had introduced himself.

"Graham," The sheriff smiled. "Something else you need?"

"Yeah—you know any lawyers in this town?" Neal asked.

Graham's brow furrowed. "Lawyers, hm?"

"Uh huh," Neal glanced towards the house. "I, uh…didn't know that I had a son. Till today, actually. And, well…just wanted to know if I have any rights."

"Well, for legal representation, you'd probably want to ask Mr. Gold," Graham suggested. "But I warn you, he's not exactly cheap."

"What lawyer is, right?" Neal grinned and the two men exchanged a smile.

"Well, he's also a pawnbroker. You'll find his shop across from the library, in the town square," Graham directed. "I hope things work out for you."

"Yeah, me too," Neal said distractedly. He waved at the sheriff and started down the road.

Granny's Bed and Breakfast turned out to be a charming place, though a bit outdated. There was no wifi, no internet at all, it seemed—and while Granny, the concierge was obliging and gracious, he couldn't help but feel disquieted. He requested a forest view, thinking it would be less distracting. In any case, something about this damn town gave him the creeps.

Well, not something. There was no doubt about it—this town _was_ under a curse. He also had the sinking suspicion that his original theory was correct—that Rumplestiltskin had crafted this curse. But if he had, why would he allow himself to be cursed? He must have included some sort of loophole, something that would allow him to remember who he was. Neal exhaled, flopping on the bed in exhaustion.

He wondered what had become of Emma and Regina. He'd been too angry with them both to pursue their conversation—but reflecting, should he really blame Emma for not telling him about Henry? He had left her. He had done it with good intentions—this damn destiny August had gone on about—but he'd still left her. Despite how much it hurt leaving her, hadn't there been even the slightest moment of relief for him? That he wouldn't be caught up in the magic he'd spent so long hating? She had no reason to tell him anything anymore. She was right. He walked out of her life, she'd moved on. It was unlikely she even wanted anything to do with him anyway.

But Henry…Henry was in danger. They had to keep him safe—they had to break this curse, if only for him! Neal's promise to August to stay away from Emma was now invalid, not with his son's life and happiness on the line.

With that, Neal rolled over and fell asleep.

XXXX

Neal awoke to a loud banging on his door. Tiredly, he stumbled out of bed but before he could reach the door, it burst open.

Regina stormed over to him in fury, Emma and Sheriff Graham close at her heels. "_Where's my son_?!" She demanded. "Did you take him?"

"What?" Neal hadn't quite woken up yet. "What are you talking about?"

"Where is he?" She shouted. "I know you have him! You asked Graham about a lawyer, you're trying to take Henry away from me!"


	3. Mr Gold

Neal stared at Regina in disbelief. "You're telling me that Henry is _missing_?" He thundered.

"As if you didn't know," Regina hissed and Graham moved between them, checking the hotel closet and under the bed.

"Aw, geez," Neal rolled his eyes. "If I was gonna kidnap the kid, do you really think I'd spend the night here? Wouldn't it make more sense to grab him and go?" He looked at the sheriff pointedly and Graham shrugged towards Regina.

"Madam Mayor, he's not here," Graham confirmed. "Looks like Emma was right."

Neal glanced at Emma who did not meet his gaze.

"Well, _where_ is he?!" Regina threw up her hands in frustration. "He wasn't in his room this morning!"

"Look, like I told you," Emma stepped between Regina and Neal. "I can help you find him. I'm good at finding people—it's what I do. Let's try his friends and go from there."

"Henry doesn't really have any friends," Regina admitted, biting her lip. "He's kind of a loner."

Neal frowned at that but Emma's expression softened. "Every kid has friends," She affirmed. "Let's try his computer—we can see if he's been emailing anyone."

XXXX

Once inside Henry's bedroom, Emma logged onto the computer at his desk. Graham and Neal sat on Henry's bed while Regina paced in agitation. Henry's bedroom looked well-lived in, with clothes and toys scattered about, and piles of books placed haphazardly. It was a nice change from the rest of the crazily ordered house.

"Smart kid," Emma sighed. "Cleared his inbox. I'm smart too—a little hard disk recovery utility I like to use…" She withdrew something that looked like a jump drive and clicked it into the USB port.

"I'm a bit more old-fashioned in my techniques," Graham remarked. "Pounding the pavement, knocking on doors, that sort of thing."

"You're on salary," Emma replied, eyes fixed on the computer. "I get paid for delivery. Pounding the pavement is not a luxury I get—huh. His receipt for a website— ."

"Huh," Neal commented. "Guess that's how he tracked us down."

"It's expensive," Emma observed. "He has a credit card?"

"He's ten," Regina retorted, folding her arms.

"Well, he used one," Emma was unfazed by Regina's peevish tone. "Let's pull up a transaction record. Mary Margaret Blanchard—who's Mary Margaret Blanchard?"

Regina's lip curled. "Henry's teacher," She practically spat.

XXXX

Mary Margaret Blanchard turned out to be a sweet schoolteacher, who looked about as intimidating as a butterfly. She was very pale with a short dark pixie cut and blinked in confusion as the four of them strode into her classroom, as soon as she'd excused her class to recess.

"Miss Mills," Mary Margaret said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Where's my son?" Regina demanded and Neal rolled his eyes. This woman excelled at being accusatory.

"Henry? I assumed he was home sick with you," Mary Margaret replied honestly.

"You think I'd be here if he was?" Regina snapped. "Did you give him your credit card so he could find _them_?" She jerked her head towards Emma and Neal.

Mary Margaret attempted to process the situation. "I'm sorry, who are you two?"

"I'm his—I'm his—" Emma started to say and Neal opened his mouth to finish for her.

"She's the woman who gave him adoption," Regina undercut them both. "And the deadbeat who impregnated her."

Neal bristled. "_What _did you just call me?" But before he could rip her a new one, Emma stepped in front of him, holding up her palm.

"You don't know anything about this, do you?" Emma asked Mary Margaret who shook her head in response.

"No, unfortunately not," She murmured, digging through her purse to retrieve her wallet. There was a blank slot and she sighed. "Clever boy…I should never have given him that book."

"What in the hell is this book I keep hearing about?" Regina demanded and Mary Margaret blanched at her tone.

"Just some old stories I gave him," She said defensively. "As you well know, Henry is a special boy. So smart. So creative—and as you might be aware…lonely. He needed it." It was clear Regina terrified the schoolteacher, but there was bite to Mary Margaret's words. She was protective of Henry and Neal appreciated that someone had been looking out for him.

So it was she who gave him the book…where had she gotten it?

"What he needs is a dose of reality," Regina snarled. "This is a waste of time." She brusquely turned away from them, knocking over a stack of books.

Emma knelt to help Mary Margaret pick them up but Neal followed Regina's long strides, out into the school parking lot. "Hey," He snapped. "_Regina_."

She stopped, turning to face him, her cold eyes flashing.

"Kids only run away when there's something to run from," Neal growled. "Why is it that I get the feeling Henry's best interests, his health, his safety is _not_ your first priority?"

Regina's eyes widened. "How _dare_ you," She hissed taking a step towards him. In that moment, Neal clearly saw not Regina Mills, but an Evil Queen, bent on destruction.

But Neal had stared into the eyes of darkness once before and he was not afraid of her.

"He's not crazy," Neal clenched his fists. "But you send him to therapy, trying to make him think something's wrong with his head. Boston and New York are awfully long ways to travel for a lie—so that leaves one other option. The truth." He glared at her stonily.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Regina said in disgust.

"Don't you?" Neal's eyes narrowed. "I know who you are. And I know what you've done. You've had a lot of fun with your life, haven't you? But that's over now. You're not damning Henry so you get your happy ending. Not while I'm here."

For the briefest second, Regina looked shocked. Shaken. It lasted only a moment and then the composed, cold professional was back in place.

"I'd suggest you visit Dr. Hopper," She said smoothly. "Since you seem to be exhibiting signs of mental illness. But let's make one thing clear, Mr. Cassidy, so there's no misunderstanding. Henry is mine. Not yours—mine. And this is my home. If you cross me, I will destroy you and Miss Swan if it is the last thing I do."

She whipped around, stalking off. Neal watched her, unimpressed.

He'd faced scarier villains than her.

XXXX

Neal felt a great sense of foreboding as he stood outside Mr. Gold's Pawnbroker and Antiquities shop. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something deeply unpleasant inside and every instinct he possessed was telling him to bolt.

But he _needed_ a lawyer.

He wasn't worried about Henry. He was relatively sure that Henry had pulled this disappearing act simply to ensure that Emma stay in Storybrooke longer—there was no way Henry would be absent for long, not after all the trouble he took to get his parents there. Frankly, Neal couldn't blame Henry for wanting to escape Regina. She seemed hellish to live under.

Taking a deep breath, Neal opened the door to the pawnshop and stepped inside. It was dark, smelling of dust and silver polish. As his eyes adjusted, he noticed what an eclectic mess the shop was—there was no order, no sections to divide the antiquities. He ducked under a glass unicorn mobile and shivered towards a set of puppets hanging from the wall. This place was creepy. It made him uncomfortable and he couldn't figure out why.

"Hello?" He called out. "Anyone here?" The sign had said open. He slowly ambled around the shop, taking everything in. There were ornate tea sets behind glass, a Mickey Mouse phone, a windmill. Strangely enough, a chipped teacup appeared to hold a place of honor on a marble pedestal.

Neal was about to give up and leave when he noticed something strange. There was a leather ball sitting upon a bookshelf, an old dusty toy that looked to be made out of cowhide. Brow furrowing, he leaned down to pick it up. Fingers tracing over the seams, his heart jolted when he realized—_this was his._

"Can I help you?"

Neal jumped at the soft voice behind him, dropping the ball. He whipped around and found himself face to face with Rumplestiltskin.

His first instinct was to run. To crash through the antiques, to bolt out the door, to run until nothing but miles and miles of distance stood between him and his father. His veins iced over, his breathing became shallow, everything _screamed _at his senses to _run, run, don't look back, RUN_!

"I'd be careful with that," Rumplestiltskin said smoothly. "It's very old." He stooped on a cane and bent to pick the cowhide ball up, carefully placing it back on the shelf.

Neal backed away from him, edging towards the door. There was no mistaking that face—but it was so strange. Here, his father was subdued. Subtle. He wore a well-tailored suit, leaned against an expensive silver-topped cane, appeared to be the epitome of grace and sophistication. The precise opposite of the theatrical Rumplestiltskin.

"I believe you came here with our new visitor—Henry's birth mother?" Rumplestiltskin asked casually. "I was told you were seeking legal advice."

"How—who told you that?" Neal managed to say, his heart still pounding.

"Word gets around in a small town," Rumplestiltskin chuckled. "My name is Mr. Gold. I would, of course, be perfectly willing to assist you. For compensation, naturally."

Neal stared at him in confusion. Was it possible that Rumplestiltskin—had _allowed_ himself to be cursed? But why? Why would he take that risk? If there was one thing Rumplestiltskin could not endure, it was someone having power over him…there was no way he'd allow Regina to take away everyone's happy endings if it included his own…

"N-Neal Cassidy," Neal said finally. "And I—you know, what I don't need legal advice. Thanks anyway." He started towards the door.

"If you're certain," Mr. Gold allowed, fingering his cane idly. "I'm sorry to say there is not a wealth of legal representation in Storybrooke—particularly ones who'd assist you in facing down Mayor Mills."

Neal hesitated and Mr. Gold smirked.

"That is what you're after, isn't it? Partial custody of Henry?" Gold suggested, his eyes glittering.

Neal glanced at the door behind him and took a breath. He remembered the coldness in Regina's demeanor, her possessive fury when she realized who Emma and Neal were. He remembered Henry's terror in returning to her home, how he'd begged them not to take him back to her. He thought of the danger, the curse that consumed the lives of the people from the Enchanted Forest, and Regina's selfish nature.

_If Rumplestiltskin doesn't remember me…if he doesn't know who he is…if he's just a pawnbroker…_

"Full," Neal said suddenly. "I'm after full custody of Henry."

"Ah," Mr. Gold said softly. "That's very ambitious of you. I'm impressed. Most young men your age wouldn't take to the idea of fatherhood quite so willingly."

"I would never abandon my kid," Neal said icily. It was surely his imagination, but something flickered in Gold's placid countenance.

There was a long pause before Neal finally spoke. "I don't need your help," He turned away, heading towards the door.

"If that changes," Gold said calmly. "You know where to find me."

"Not likely," Neal muttered walking out the door.

XXXX

Halfway down the street, Neal was surprised to see Emma, thunderclouds gathering over her, looking upset. She seemed to be leaving Regina's neighborhood and he jogged up to her.

"Emma," He called to her and she cast him a quick glance.

"What?" She fairly snapped, quickening her pace. Neal kept up with her easily.

"Did you find Henry?" He asked patiently, ignoring her tone. She jerked her head in assent and Neal cast a quick glance backwards.

"Something happen? With Regina?" Neal wanted to know.

Emma refused to answer but she headed straight for Granny's. Sighing in frustration, Neal stepped in front of her.

"Get out of the way, Neal," Emma growled.

"Look, I know you're pissed at me," Neal held up his hands. "I know you hate me. I know I'm the last person in the world you want to deal with right now, especially since Henry appeared out of nowhere. But please…hear me out."

Emma's expression hardened as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "One minute," She ground out, tapping her foot.

Neal exhaled. "Emma—I'm not asking you to forgive me. I'm not asking you to stop hating me. All I'm asking is that you work with me—for Henry's sake. There's something wrong in this town and I'm worried about the kid. And I can't watch out for him without you. For his sake…could we put up a truce?"

Emma stared at him, her expression so full of hurt and fear, that it nearly broke Neal to look at her. Her head dropped towards the ground as she curled her hands into fists.

"You don't trust Regina, either?" She raised her head slowly. "With Henry?"

Neal shook his head adamantly. "No, I don't."

Emma blew out, her stance relaxing a little bit. "I don't know what it is about her, but something's just not right. I don't know how long I'm staying and I'm _not_ getting involved in a custody battle, if that's what you're after—but I want to make sure Henry's all right. At the very least. And…if you're serious about sticking around for Henry, if we can put aside the past, for Henry's sake…I'm game."

Neal grinned in relief and for the briefest moment, something in Emma's expression melted at his smile. But it was gone as quickly as it came.

"But this doesn't change anything," She looked away from him, starting to walk on. "It doesn't change what you did to me. It doesn't change how much it hurts being around you. It doesn't change the fact that Tallahassee—that all of it—was just a con to you."

"Emma—" Neal started to say.

"Save it," Emma said brusquely. "I have to get a room." She didn't even glance behind her, walking up the steps of Granny's, her pace quickening.

Neal watched her go and turned as well.

He needed a drink.


	4. Belief

Neal awoke to the sound of the clock tower, alerting the people of Storybrooke. He rousted himself out of bed, the remnants of his dream slipping away, yawning tiredly. Hadn't Henry mentioned that the clock tower had stopped working? Because of the curse? If so, the clock's jovial chimes seemed promising.

Throwing on a pair of jeans and a charcoal button-down, he blearily exited his room in search of coffee. He headed down the steps towards the diner, walking through the door. He got a few stares as he took a seat at a booth—apparently strangers in Storybrooke were not common place. It made him uncomfortable, as he'd gained a certain comfort in being anonymous, and the last thing he needed was unwarranted attention—particularly given _his_ past.

"What can I get you?" The young waitress—he forgot her name—smiled at her charmingly. She was pretty, with dark hair and a bright smile, showing as much skin as her uniform allowed.

"Coffee," Neal affirmed. "And I guess—bacon and eggs. Hashbrowns on the side."

The waitress jotted his order down. "Very traditional. Classic looks good on you." She winked at him before skipping back to the kitchen and Neal blinked in response.

"Hey, Dad!"

"Henry!" Neal said in surprise as his son strolled inside, taking a seat in front of him. "What's up, man?"

"Not much, aside from my mom being crabby," Henry reported. "Is Emma here yet?"

Neal shook his head. "Think she's still asleep. I dunno, her room's not near mine," He eyed something in Henry's hands. "What do you have, there?"

"Sidney Glass did an article on Emma," Henry placed the newspaper neatly in front of him. "Not a lot about you, though…just a few lines…"

Neal skimmed it, caught the word 'deadbeat', and frowned. So that was how Regina wanted to play it. Fine with him.

"Everything's going according to plan," Henry said eagerly. "She's staying! With a little help, she'll be able to break the curse in no time!"

Neal sighed. "Curses usually aren't that easy, Henry," He said honestly. "They're incredibly complex to make and even harder to cast—especially one as big as this one. Breaking it will require the same kinda cost. All magic comes with a price you know, even good magic."

Henry drummed his fingers on the table thoughtfully. "But she's the Savior. It's what she was meant for!"

"And it's gonna take a lot of convincing for her to believe," Neal told him.

"But she stayed!" Henry protested. "Why else would she have stayed if she didn't believe?"

Neal opened his mouth to answer but was briefly interrupted by the waitress setting down his food. Henry helped himself to a strip of bacon and asked for the waitress—named Ruby, apparently—to bring him a hot chocolate with cinnamon.

"Look, there's Emma!" Henry whispered, noticing her enter the room. Emma took a seat at the counter, her brow furrowing as she picked up the newspaper.

"Ruby, can you send Emma a hot chocolate with cinnamon too?" Henry requested and Ruby winked at him in assent. They watched as Emma looked up in surprise at the drink and promptly stood, confronting the sheriff in one of the booths.

"Ha, she thinks Graham sent it," Henry laughed. "Why would she think that?"

Neal watched the two of them, something sinking in his gut. There was a definite air of flirtation between them.

"I didn't send it," Graham told her, looking a little amused.

"I did!" Henry volunteered. "I like cinnamon too."

Emma looked at him bemused. "Don't you have school?" She glanced at Neal who shrugged in response.

"Duh," Henry grinned. "I'm ten. Walk me." He hopped away from the booth, stealing one more strip of bacon off Neal's plate.

"See ya later, Dad," He whispered loudly. "Operation Cobra is a go!" He strolled out the door with Emma in tow and Neal smiled in spite of himself. Operation Cobra? What did that have to do with fairytales?

He stretched a little, continuing his breakfast, watching Emma and Henry walk down the street towards the bus stop. Emma would be a tough nut to crack, but Henry was growing on her. Henry was quickly becoming a priority in her life and he'd already climbed to the top of Neal's list.

His brow furrowed. It just figured that the only person who would be able to offer him legal help was _Rumplestiltskin. _The very thought of asking advice from his father, alone and aloof in that cold pawnshop, made his skin crawl. A part of him was still urging him to flee Storybrooke, to forget this entire mess of magic, never mind his fervent desire to make things right with Emma.

But Henry. Henry needed him. Henry was his son and by the looks of things, Henry had no one else to rely on. Everyone was under Regina's control.

Neal needed allies. And unfortunately, the only ally he could think that might be willing to help was his…was the pawnbroker.

With a sigh, he finished his meal, paid his bill, and walked out the door.

XXXX

Mr. Gold was assisting a nun who looked extremely displeased to be in his shop. Neal watched her give him a wad of cash with her lips pressed tightly together and stride out the door.

Gold looked his way to welcome and Neal watched him noticeably stiffen.

Something had changed. The cool look of blankness was gone—his expression was still calculating, still methodical, but something had _shifted_ in Rumplestiltskin. As if—

No. Neal was imagining things.

"We meet again," Mr. Gold said softly, tapping his fingers on his cane. Neal swallowed hard.

"Yeah," He cleared his throat. "I changed my mind. I wanted to talk to you about—about my legal rights. With Henry."

The silence was unnerving. Neal felt as though he were being _scrutinized_, as if he was being placed under a magnifying glass. He repeatedly reminded himself that Gold had no idea who he was.

"Well," Gold broke the quiet. "I'm sorry to tell you, there aren't a lot of options for you."

Neal's heart sank. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that unmarried fathers have very little say in these types of cases," Gold explained smoothly, picking up a chipped teacup, beginning to polish it. "So if Miss Swan intends on reclaiming custody—"

"She's not here for that," Neal replied impatiently. "But I am. I didn't even know I _had_ a kid till about 48 hours ago. Doesn't that make a difference?"

"Unfortunately not," Gold replied, his eyes narrowing a bit. "The court doesn't care if you weren't aware of her pregnancy at the time. They will cite your leaving her as willful abandonment of her and the child."

Neal winced at the word 'abandonment'. To his surprise, Gold seemed a little…tense with the conversation as well. As if he found Neal's lack of options personally bothersome.

"So what can I do?" Neal asked him.

"Depends on how badly you want your son," Gold's tone lowered a little. "What extremes you'd take to be with him."

Neal frowned at him. "I'd do anything," He said firmly.

"That's what I like to hear," Gold said softly. "All right. Why don't you join me in the back? We can discuss further." He gestured for Neal to follow him.

The back of Gold's shop was even more cluttered, if it was possible. Neal took a seat across from a small coffee table, noticing uncomfortably that an old-fashioned spinning wheel was in the corner. Gold took a seat as well.

"Now—to build our case," His voice was still soft, muted. Nothing like the theatrical Rumplestiltskin, who loved a flashy show.

"Yeah?" Neal cleared his throat.

"There have been cases that relied on federal protection for Native American children separated from their biological families. Do you have any native blood?" Gold's voice was mild but Neal saw the probing in his gaze.

He shook his head. "No, I don't. Emma doesn't either, our families are…recent immigrants."

For a long time, Gold observed him, as if waiting for Neal to reveal more. But Neal Cassidy hadn't lived this long to throw caution to the wind. Even under the curse, this was still Rumplestiltskin. All magic came with a price, all deals with Rumplestiltskin came with a price, and Neal was not willing to pay it.

"Very well," Gold said finally, a bit of a sigh in his voice. "The only other avenue to explore is to prove that Regina is an unfit parent. If you can prove that, you may be able to gain custody of the lad as a foster parent and eventually adopt him."

Something lurched inside Neal. There was no question in Neal's mind that he wanted to get Henry away from Regina, that he wanted to ensure Henry's safety and welfare, and if that meant adopting him…still. He couldn't deny it, there was a part of Neal that _feared_ this onslaught of responsibility. Would he be any good at being a full-time father? He had Rumplestiltskin's blood…perhaps he had the same cowardice, the same darkness…

His phone buzzed and Neal stood, answering it. "Hello?"

"Hey Dad!" Henry's voice chirped on the other line. "Whatcha doing?"

Neal glanced at Mr. Gold. "Nothing, kid, just some…family business."

"Cool," Henry replied. "Just wanted to let you know that Regina arrested Emma but it's okay 'cause Mary Margaret's gonna bail her out. We're on our way to the station now!"

"She did _what_?!" Neal said incredulously. "Okay. I'll be there soon." He shut off his phone and turned towards Gold.

"That woman is a piece of work," He muttered. "All right. I'll be in touch." Gold nodded towards him, still in that disconcerting, scrutinizing way and Neal left the back of the shop.

XXXX

By the time Neal reached the sheriff's office, Emma had been bailed out. He ruffled Henry's hair affectionately before storming into the office, where Sheriff Graham was sipping a cup of coffee.

"Why was Emma arrested?" He demanded by way of greeting.

Graham sighed, rubbing his temples slightly. "Archie Hopper called it in. He said they'd had a bit of a row and she demanded Henry's files."

"Oh, come on, you don't believe that," Neal said in disgust.

"You're right, I don't," Graham said rather sourly and Neal blinked in surprise.

"Then—why did you arrest her?" Neal crossed his arms.

"Didn't really have much of a choice when it's Archie's word against hers," Graham replied. "Particularly when the mayor is backing him."

"Jesus," Neal ran his fingers through his hair distractedly. Before he could respond, Graham's phone rang.

"Yes?" Graham answered, listening. His brows pinched together. "All right. I'll be there soon." He hung up and sighed.

"What's up?" Neal asked, noting the expression.

"Emma. Apparently she took it upon herself to maul Regina's favorite apple tree with a chainsaw," Graham smothered a grin and Neal felt a burst of affection for both Emma and Graham.

"Yeah, that sounds like Emma," Neal smirked. "You gonna arrest her again?"

"I'm going to try and talk Regina out of that, as it won't do much good," Graham stood, grabbing his jacket. "Look, Neal. I know it's not my place and I know Regina signs my paychecks, but the fact is, if this escalates further—the only one who gets hurt will be—"

"Henry," Neal nodded in agreement. "You're right. I'm sure Emma knows you're right."

The two men looked at each other and Neal felt an air of understanding pass through them both. In a strange way, Graham was a kindred spirit. He thought of Graham and Emma laughing together that morning and shifted uncomfortably.

"I'll be back," Graham went towards the door. "Just—help me play mediator, will you?"

Neal snorted. "Emma and I aren't exactly friendly. You'll have better luck with that than me." Graham nodded at that response and Neal's throat lurched as the sheriff exited the room.

XXXX

There was a loud knock on Neal's door.

Pushing aside his second cheeseburger, Neal hauled himself off the couch and went to the door. When he opened it, his heart stopped. Henry was standing there, crying.

"Whoa, kid! What's the matter?" Neal ushered his son inside.

Henry wiped his eyes. "It's stupid. The whole thing is stupid. She doesn't believe me, she thinks I'm crazy!"

"Hey, hey," Neal placed his hands on Henry's shoulders. "What happened?"

"She was talking to my mom—I have dinner with my mom on Thursdays before I talk to Archie—and Emma said I was crazy!" His eyes filled with tears.

Neal hugged him warmly. Henry burrowed his head into Neal's chest and he gently stroked his hair. He was almost sure of it, positive that Regina had somehow orchestrated this little setup and it disgusted him. She really didn't care _how_ she got them out of town, even if it broke Henry's heart.

"It's all right, Henry," He said gently. "It's gonna be okay."

"But she doesn't believe me!"

"I believe you," Neal said firmly. "And we're gonna figure this out."

Henry looked at him miserably. "How do I know? What if you're just pretending like Emma is?"

Neal sighed. "Okay. Here's the truth, Henry. I told you that I believed you because I was in that book, because I was from that land. That's still the truth."

Henry watched him reproachfully.

"My name—" Neal took a deep breath. "My name is Baelfire."

The name felt strange on his tongue due to lack of use. But Henry's eyes widened in recognition. He _knew_ that name, knew that Neal hadn't had time to read the book all the way through—he wasn't making it up. Neal believed in him and that meant everything to Henry.

"I gotta go," Henry glanced at the time. "I'm late for my meeting with Archie."

"Okay," Neal gave him another hug. "Cut Emma some slack. She won't let you down, I promise." Henry's face darkened at the mention of Emma but he left the hotel room peaceably.

Neal collapsed onto the couch exhausted. Regina was going to make this as difficult as possible, for all of them. He'd made a shaky ally with the cursed version of Rumplestiltskin—time would tell if that was a fatal mistake. In this world, Rumplestiltskin was cursed, cursed to be Mr. Gold, but something about him had _shifted_ today, as if—as if—

As if he were more self-aware.

What would happen? What would happen if Rumplestiltskin realized who he was? Would he recognize Neal?

Distractedly, he paced the room, idly looking out the window. He saw something shift in the forest, something that looked like a large animal—maybe a stray dog—and tapped his fingers on the windowsill.

Had Neal procured a room with a town view, he would've seen Mr. Gold striding down the street, headed for Regina Mills' home. He would've seen the quiet pawnbroker pause briefly in front of Granny's inn, staring up at the windows, before continuing on his way.


	5. Moving Day

Neal frowned at the newspaper, taking a sip of coffee. He sat on a park bench in one of the more scenic areas of the town, pen in hand. Storybrooke's classified section was sparse, with hardly any apartments or houses for rent and even less jobs that were hiring. This shouldn't have come as a surprise to him, after all, the methodical Regina would've set up her little kingdom so there was no room for interlopers.

He couldn't stay at Granny's inn forever. Emma had already gotten kicked out because of some "no felons" rule that Regina had come up with. The Evil Queen appeared to be focusing her attentions on Emma, obviously not seeing Neal as much of a threat. But that wouldn't last long, especially since Neal was gearing up to fight her tooth and nail.

He had a little bit saved and Heidelberg Associates had been informed of his quick absence, citing a family emergency. But he wouldn't last long unless he found a job.

"Not much for headlines."

Neal jerked at the sound of Mr. Gold's voice. The pawnbroker's hand twisted idly on his cane.

"But I'm sure Sidney's articles will improve substantially, if not factually," Gold continued, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Newcomers have that effect on a small town."

"I'm not exactly into current events," Neal resisted the urge to snap. "Just thumbing through the classifieds."

"Job-hunting?" Gold asked airily.

"Something like that," Neal muttered, folding his newspaper.

"You know," Gold said benevolently. "As luck would have it, I've a…rather irresponsible tenant who has become delinquent with their rent. An eviction will be forthcoming. If you're interested, I could lease the apartment out to you."

Neal's blood ran cold. Something about the light and airy tone of the pawnbroker sent a chill down his spine—Rumplestiltskin never performed favors without a price.

"I think your apartments are a little out of my price range," He replied dryly and Gold chuckled in response.

"Perhaps so," He acknowledged. "However, I'd be willing to severely discount the rate—provided you take up employment at my shop."

Neal's eyes widened. "Work at your shop?"

"I could use a little help," Gold said smoothly. "Greeting guests, stocking shelves, delivering merchandise, that sort of thing. Nothing too backbreaking."

Neal's throat tightened. Gold was watching him closely, perhaps to gauge his reaction, and it was all Neal could do not to throw up. Did he _know_? Did he suspect? Why would he ask for Neal to work for him? His thoughts swam frantically and he tried to remain calm.

"Appreciate the offer," Neal cleared his throat. "But I think I'm good. I've got…another offer in mind." It was a flat lie and from the way Gold stiffened, Neal knew that the pawnbroker was not fooled.

"If you're sure," Gold said softly. "Let me know if you change your mind." He nodded a little curtly at Neal before gracefully walking off. Neal watched him go, releasing the first he'd been clenching. Something was definitely different about his father. His interest in Neal was disconcerting and dangerous—and the last thing Neal needed was for the pawnbroker to discover who he actually was.

"Hey Dad!"

"Henry!" Neal said in relief as his son plopped next to him on the bench. "Boy, are you a sight for sore eyes."

Henry examined his newspaper, fingering the scribbles. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for a place to live," Neal admitted. "Can't live in a hotel forever."

His son lit up. "So you're gonna move here? Permanently?"

"For now," Neal corrected. _If I could get Henry out of here…I will._

"Awesome!" Henry cheered. "Well, I wanted to update you on Operation Cobra. I'm gonna try and find Emma's dad."

Neal blinked. "Her dad? The prince?"

"Right," Henry affirmed. "She's already found her mom—Mary Margaret. Now we just have to—"

"Mary Margaret's her mom? Your teacher?" Neal's head began to pound. Mary Margaret and Emma both looked about the same age.

"She's Snow White, can't you tell?" Henry asked crossly and Neal had to admit, there was a resemblance between his teacher and the illustration in the storybook. Not to mention, now that Neal thought about it, a striking similarity between Emma's features and Mary Margaret's…

"So where do you think Prince Charming is?" Neal asked, carefully keeping the irony out of his voice.

His son shrugged. "I dunno. But we gotta find him and we gotta be secret about it. If the Evil Queen finds out what we're up to…it won't be good."

Neal smiled grimly. "Sounds like a plan, kid. You let me know if you find him, I'll keep my eyes peeled."

Henry nodded and Neal immediately noticed the quizzical expression form on his son's face. He looked for the world like Emma, when she had something to say but didn't know how to say it.

"What's up?" Neal prompted.

"What about your dad?" Henry asked, a little meekly. "Do you want to find him?"

The story of how Rumplestiltskin earned his powers—by choosing the Dark One's dagger over his son—was well told in the storybook. But Henry had apparently not realized that Rumplestiltskin and Mr. Gold were the same character. Not that Neal could blame him, the outlandish and flourished Rumplestiltskin was a strikingly different persona than the cool, calculating Mr. Gold. Nevertheless, this was one fairytale secret Neal had no intention of revealing.

"No, kid," Neal shook his head. "It's best if me and my old man don't see each other."

Henry's shoulders slumped. "Are you sure? He might miss you. He might feel really bad for losing you—"

"Henry," Neal said quietly. "No. The reason I'm here is to help you and help Emma find her family. You just gotta leave me out of it, okay?"

"But what about _your_ family?" Henry protested. "I want you to have a happily ever after too!"

Neal smiled at him and squeezed his shoulders. "If you and Emma break the curse and Emma finds her parents, that will be my happily ever after," He said gently. "You guys are my first priority."

Henry sighed. "Okay. I gotta get to school, I'm late—we have a field trip, we're gonna decorate the hospital," He hugged his father. "See you later!" He scampered off towards the bus stop and Neal folded his newspaper, none too carefully.

Henry was clever. Neal couldn't keep the fact that Rumplestiltskin was Mr. Gold a secret from him forever—but it was just too dangerous otherwise. Gold had an agenda, a dangerous agenda, and Neal would _not_ let him drag his son into it.

XXXX

_The woods are lovely dark and deep, but I have promises to keep…_

Neal couldn't get the lines of a well-loved Robert Frost poem out of his head. As he tramped past the Troll Bridge, the leaves crunching underneath his shoes, he tried to ignore the intense feeling of _home_.

He had grown up near a forest. Green fields had interrupted the woods' cool shade, the damp smell of earth and wind rushing against the leaves was familiar. There was beauty in the woods, but always danger, his papa had warned him never to stray into the woods after dark for fear of the ogres and creatures that dwelt within. He had never been afraid of the woods, despite his father's fears…

The sudden urge to explore the woods had overwhelmed him after breakfast, though he made sure to stay away from the beach. Something about the way the waves sounded when they crashed against the shore made him long for Tallahassee, and the regret and pain would become unbearable. So he stuck to the woods, following some of the lesser known trails, keeping his eyes on his watch. There was isolation here, and it was a comfort. The hazy enchantment choked the town of Storybrooke, but his thoughts were slightly clearer in the forest.

"You're on private property."

"Geez!" Neal exploded whipping around. "What is it with people sneaking up on me today?"

A man, dressed in well-tailored clothes, laughed a little. He was a little taller than Neal and had a friendly, relaxed air about him. But there was something slightly off about the stranger, something that disconcerted Neal. The man's eyes seemed…hunted.

"Pardon me for startling you," The stranger tilted his head. "I don't get many visitors this far in the woods—particularly trespassers."

"I'm sorry," Neal cleared his throat. "I was just taking a hike in the woods. Didn't really keep track of where I was going."

The stranger eyed him. "You're new in town."

"Yeah," Neal replied uncomfortably. "My name's Neal Cassidy, I uh…I'm Henry's biological father. He—invited me up here."

Something rather manic glittered in the stranger's eyes. "Is that so? The same Henry who brought back Emma Swan?"

"Yeah," Neal folded his arms.

A broad smile crossed the man's face. "Do forgive me. My name's Jefferson—I own a little land out here and while I don't get many visitors, gossip travels fast in Storybrooke. I was looking forward to paying a call to Miss Swan. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance first." He outstretched his hand and Neal shook it cautiously.

"So," Jefferson gestured forward, inviting Neal to walk with him. "May I ask how long you're staying here?"

"I dunno," Neal cleared his throat. "As long as—I'm needed, I guess."

"Keeping an eye on your son?" Jefferson's voice became strange. "A worthy objective."

"Yeah, well, that all depends on how long I can keep the mayor off my back," Neal cleared his throat. "Not exactly real estate heaven here."

"You know," Jefferson said thoughtfully. "If you're looking for a place to stay…my property's rather old, there are several buildings on the land. One used to be a servants' quarters. I'd be happy to rent it out to you. I'd make an easier landlord than Mr. Gold or Madam Mayor, I can assure you." The words seemed a little eager for Neal's liking. But if it came down to accepting accommodation between an odd stranger and his father…

"I think I'd be interested," Neal cleared his throat. "What's the catch?"

"No catch," Jefferson said smoothly. "Although I'll admit to you, I could use a little help maintaining the place. It's a long walk to Storybrooke for groceries and the post office…"

Neal's eyes narrowed. It seemed to be the same deal Rumplestiltskin had offered him—a room in exchange for favors performed for the landlord. There was no earthly reason that Neal should trust Jefferson over Rumplestiltskin, but strangely enough, there was an unexplainable feeling of kinship with him. He couldn't shake the feeling that somehow, Regina had cursed this man too, in a particularly painful way, forcing him into the isolation of the woods…

"All right," Neal swallowed. "You got yourself a tenant."

XXXX

Jefferson was clearly not to be trusted. He had the same unnerving air that Rumplestiltskin had, as if he knew more than the rest of the town. But the difference was, Neal had no past history with Jefferson—at least, none that he could recall. He had no idea who he was in the fairytale world and however disconcerting it was to be around him, it was better than being in close quarters with his father.

Still, the way Jefferson looked at him…as though he were a _bargaining chip_ of some sort…

Using the ancient dinosaur of a computer at the inn, Neal managed to arrange having his things shipped to him. There was a county road that winded around the woods, eventually leading to a large, dignified house that could've held fifteen. That was something else to be concerned about—Jefferson had remarked that he lived alone, so why on earth did he have so much space?

The old servants' quarters had once been a hunting cabin. The windows were wide and sloping, giving Neal the uncomfortable feeling of being _watched_, though he was far enough in the woods to only be spied on by deer. Unless Jefferson took a page out of Jimmy Stewart's book, that is…

It would be a while before the rest of Neal's possessions arrived. He was lucky that he'd thought to pack that first day, when Henry showed up on his doorstep. He imagined Emma wouldn't be quite as lucky.

When evening fell, Jefferson invited him to the main house for a drink, to celebrate his new occupancy. Neal was tempted to turn him down but couldn't find a way to do so without being rude—Jefferson didn't have to rent a house out to him and if he hadn't, Neal would've been forced to turn to his father. That was something he simply could not do.

So when the moon rose, Neal tramped his way up to the mansion, shivering a little in the cold. Jefferson greeted him warmly.

"How are you settling in?" He asked conversationally. "And what's your poison?"

"Whatever you got," Neal answered distractedly. "Whiskey, beer, wouldn't say no to a good scotch…" He scanned the parlor, searching for any items that might give him a clue to Jefferson's identity. He'd been wondering where the character had come from, if he had any connection to anyone in Neal's life.

"So," Jefferson took the large armchair by the fire after handing Neal a glass tumbler. "Tell me about yourself."

Neal shrugged. "Not much to tell, to be honest," He said carefully. "Found out I had a son. Want to be a part of his life, so I'm in Storybrooke—for the time being."

Jefferson smiled darkly. "It's an incredible town," He said with something of a sneer in his voice. "Everything you could possibly want—forest, ocean, small town charm—"

"Ruled with an iron fist," Neal undercut and Jefferson laughed.

"Ah, Regina," He said and Neal noticed how Jefferson's hands twitched, as if grasping for something. "A woman of many talents. She's quite the sense of humor, don't you think?"

"I'm not a fan of her parenting skills," Neal muttered, taking a sip of his drink.

"And neither am I!" Jefferson cried out suddenly, causing Neal to spill slightly. "No, no, Regina's mothering leaves something to be desired. I used to pity her boy—but now Henry has you to look after him. His father. A child needs his father."

Jefferson's face drew near his, expression filled with manic intensity. "A child needs his father," He hissed and Neal stared at him, bile rising in his throat. Jefferson wasn't talking about Henry—was he in league with Rumplestiltskin? Did he know Neal's identity?

Jefferson backed away from him, downing his drink. "You'd do anything, wouldn't you," He muttered towards the fireplace. "To get your son back. To get him out of Regina's control. Isn't that right?"

"Yeah," Neal said levelly. "I would." He caught Jefferson's stare and matched it, refusing to give an inch. Jefferson's features relaxed into an easy grin.

"Good," He said casually. "Because when it comes down to it—you'll want me on your side, Neal."

"Your side for what?" Jefferson asked suspiciously.

"Oh, this and that," Jefferson said airily. "I'm a better ally than an enemy. And if you help me—I'll help you."

Talking to Jefferson was similar to running in a dream—it felt nonsensical, surreal, as if Neal was missing part of the picture. But there was something genuine about Jefferson that allowed Neal to take him at his word.

For now, at least.

The following days were sunny and Neal grumpily discovered that the distance between his new residence and the center of town would be something of an inconvenience. Still, he would have to make the best of it and be sure to stay in town long enough to keep an eye on his son—and Emma for that matter.

"Getting arrested already?" Neal remarked, heading over towards her. The sheriff had pulled over next to her, sirens blazing, cheekily having a word with her.

"Hmph," Emma pressed her lips together. "He was offering me a job."

"As a cop?" Neal's eyebrows rose. "Deputy Swan—now there's some irony."

She rounded. "What, you don't think I could do it?"

"Course not," Neal cracked a grin. "You gotta admit though, it's kinda funny. About as funny as me becoming an accountant."

Emma started a little. "You became an accountant?"

"Yep," Neal scratched his head. "Numbers are easier than people. Wanted something safe, boring, something that would keep me out of trouble—accounting it was."

She watched him for a while. To Neal's surprise, she gave him a half-hearted smile.

"Guess that didn't last long," She gestured vaguely, referencing the town. Neal chuckled in response.

"Guess not," He agreed. "You find a place to live?"

"Yeah," Emma affirmed. "You know Mary Margaret, Henry's teacher? She's letting me take her spare room."

Mary Margaret. The woman Henry claimed was Emma's mother—well that was kismet. He wondered if per Henry's plan, they'd managed to find her father as well.

"Feel like getting breakfast?" Emma asked suddenly. "We should hash some stuff out."

Neal looked at her in surprise and agreed.

XXXX

"So, where are you living?" Emma coughed into her hand, perhaps to cover up her discomfort. Neal took a sip of coffee.

"Kinda out in the boonies," He replied. "Found a cabin for rent in the woods…little far, but it'll do."

Emma eyed him critically. "How long-term are you thinking of being here?"

"However long it takes," Neal said evenly, his fingers curling around his mug. "Same as you."

She sighed impatiently. "Neal, you know I'm not interested in custody of Henry."

"You'll have a hard time convincing Regina of that," Neal pointed out. "And even if you aren't—I am."

Her lips twisted. "You really wanna go up against her? She's got a stick up her ass, that's for sure, but do you really think…do you really think Henry's in danger? Being around her?"

Neal hesitated. There was only so much he could tell Emma, without her thinking he was insane. From her perspective, Regina was an overly defensive mother, a strict, intolerant mother—but abusive? It remained to be seen.

"I don't trust her," Neal said carefully. "Not with Henry at least. And it matters to me to be a part of Henry's life."

Emma wilted a little. "It matters to me too," She said quietly. "But we gotta—we gotta keep an eye on him. He's all over the place, you should've seen what he pulled the other night—"

"What do you mean?" Neal asked with a frown.

Her cheeks blew out a little. "Oh, you know, his weird fairytale thing. He thought that this John Doe in the hospital was Mary Margaret's true love—her prince charming, I guess. Weird thing was, he woke up shortly after and kind of led me, Graham, and Mary Margaret on a wild goose chase in the middle of the woods…and the kid would _not_ go home, he insisted on coming with us…"

Neal shook his head disapprovingly.

"Anyway, turns out this guy had a wife, Kathryn Nolan. Really kinda crushed Henry's hopes, he's got a thing for matchmaking, I guess…only problem is, I think Mary Margaret got a little swept up in it," Emma sighed leaning her head on her writs. Ruby paused at their table and placed a cup of hot chocolate before Emma.

Neal smiled at her as she took a sip. Head cocked, she asked, "What?"

"Nothing," He said quietly. "It's just…I think this is the first pleasant conversation we've had."

Her expression flickered into shades of fear, vulnerability, and perhaps longing—but before she could respond, Regina stopped by their table.

"How was your walk with Henry?" She asked Emma conversationally, completely ignoring Neal's existence. "That's right—I know everything. But relax. I don't mind."

"You don't?" Emma asked in surprise.

"No," Regina said smoothly. "Because you no longer worry me, Miss Swan. You see, I did a little digging into who you are. And what I found out was quite soothing. It all comes down to the number seven."

"Seven?" Emma asked startled.

"It's the number of addresses you've had in the last decade. Your longest in anywhere was two years. Really, what did you enjoy so much about Tallahassee?"

Neal's hand twitched involuntarily, sending a fork flying off the table, landing with a loud clatter. Emma did not acknowledge the noise, her eyes fixed on Regina.

"If you were wondering," She said carefully. "I did find a place here in town."

"I know," Regina stifled a laugh. "With Miss Blanchard. How long is your lease? Oh, wait. You don't have one. You see my point? In order for something to grow, Miss Swan, it needs roots. And you? Don't have any. People don't change. They only fool themselves into believing they can."

"You don't know me," Emma said through gritted teeth.

"No, I think I do," Regina purred. "All I ask, is as you carry on your transient life, you think of Henry and what's best for him. Perhaps consider a clean break. It's going to happen anyway. Enjoy your cocoa." She stood and exited the diner regally. Angrily, Emma made to stand.

"Emma—" Neal started to say.

"Don't," She snapped and in her haste, she overturned her cocoa all over herself. Sighing in frustration, she swore under her breath.

"Here, let me—" Neal tried to hand her some napkins but she swatted him away.

"Leave me alone," Her voice was harsh, unforgiving. Regina had revealed a vulnerability Emma was not willing to own up to and Neal felt a lump in his throat swell. Tallahassee. Emma had spent two years in Tallahassee.

Obeying her request, Neal left their table and walked out the door.

XXXX

Neal spent the rest the day familiarizing himself with the rest of town. The library had been closed for quite some time it seemed, a shame—he could've used some help doing research. He tried to give the pawnshop a wide berth though, without his ever trying, he kept being drawn back to it. There were _things_ in that pawnshop, possessions of the residents of Storybrooke, fragments of their forgotten lives.

Right as he started to head towards his car to make the drive back into the woods, he got a phone call from Jefferson, letting him know his possessions had arrived safely at the house. He thanked his new landlord for signing for them and right as he hung up his phone, he noticed an odd shadow outside of Gold's shop.

Something prickled down his spine. He tried to convince himself to leave it be, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. His father was perfectly capable of taking care of himself…right?


End file.
